When I decided to give my dog a pillow to sleep on I never thought of the traumatic experiences it was going to dredge up, nor the ensuing flashbacks that would cause this eventual outcome. Batman apparently spent time fighting for his life in the trench warfare of Hoth. The pillow felt a bit to close to a Taun Taun and in a rage filled flashback he ripped it down the middle and climbed in, it smelled terrible but provided the warmth he was after. He had actually woken up quite a bit when I snapped this, when I went looking for him he was completely inside. I did nerd out a bit on this post, but I'm cool with me.

Tractor Files 2:
This tractor holds a particularly special place in my heart for a variety of reasons. The first of which being that is was the tractor they taught be to drive on. Or at least one of its kind was. Little did I know this, like the previous post, would lead to mind numbing hours of starring down into the dirt to make sure my tractor never strayed more than 6 inches at the blistering pace of 1 mile per hour. However, what really makes this tractor stand out in a special contrast in my memory is the time Uncle Stanton decided to hit the breaks in front of me while I was driving it. It is important to note that this particular model has a nearly universal break problem, being that after enough time the breaks simply stay depressed and grind away to nothing. That is why our mechanic saw fit to remove the breaks completely from this tractor, but did not see fit to tell anyone. This is why when Uncle Stanton stopped directly in front me, I ran directly into the back of his truck.

Tractor Files Part 1:
I met this little number on a steamy summer morning. The fog still lay thick over the dew slick grass. My uncle introduced us, her and I were to weed row after row, just the two of us, no one else around for hours. He dropped me off and as he drove away we got acquainted. She was no spring chicken and it took a few tries to get her going, but once she got started it was like we'd known each other for years. After about half we worked into a rhythm that could be described as "comfortable numb." The vibrations from row after row slowly lulling me into a drowsy state. She didn't take to much looking after so when I nodded off for a minute she just kept going, mind you not in the same direction I left her in. I tried to cover up the mistake by running back over the same row and smoothing out the damage, but alas, the evidence of my transgression was writ into the earth for all to see.

There are still things in this life that catch me off guard. This particular incident shouldn't have, I feel I have been alive long enough to make something like this less than surprising. None the less this instance fascinated me. I cracked the first egg, egg white and yolk check. Cracked the second, egg white and yolk, wait what? Two, now isn't that novel. I never thought chickens had twins. However, this seems like an excellent business venture. It may seem like mad science at first, breeding a race of chickens that only produce 2 plus embryos per egg, but it becomes far less strange when you consider what we are already eating. Given American's propensity for eating chicken breast, the chickens are pumped so full of steroid they can barely stand due to their enormous breasts. So why not take it a step further and put some fertility drugs into the roid cocktail, and we could have a master race of big breasted ultra-fertile chickens. No one really likes egg white anyway. Imagine cracking open a egg and happening upon an 8 yolker, what a scrambled egg that would make. Sunny side up? I think yes. A veggie omelet will finally have a chance to taste good. Sure we're playing god, but worse things have been done in the name of delicious.

There comes a point in everyone's life when they sit back and try to figure out how exactly they find themselves in the situation they're in. This was one of those watershed moments for me. Finding myself the transportation for three wee feline wayfarers. My position on cats has been well documented, and it is that, while puntable, cats lack the capacity to give/receive love in a high enough capacity to rank much higher than rodent in my eyes. A dangerous and heartless predator, cats seem to actually derive pleasure from sinking claws deep into furniture, carpet, and you. So in making a decision with no hesitation I simply fell forward and let gravity deal with the rest.

Life brings me joys in the smallest of ways from time to time. Today I was lucky enough to stumble on to one of those far to rare pleasures when I stopped behind this dodge in a florida coastal town. Now I am a confessed and proud nerd, and certain things can make the nerd come out of me in force. Transformers happens to be pretty high on that list so when I say this I flipped a bit. I, over the course of the day, have slowly but surely convinced myself that this was not just machine but it was more than met the eye. If fact I was basking in the exhaust of a extra-terrestrial mechanically conscience life form. The only drawback from the entire experience is that I have, as of now, not been able to find a similar ornament for a 93' Lincoln Town Car.

I could approach this from a variety of angles, there is really a lot working here. Kaje, upon viewing this picture, referred to it as the "we might be gay club." So I could come at it that way. We could delve into the reasons behind myself assuming the matriarchal position in the photo. Or even its potential merit as a photo on AwkwardFamilyPhotos.com. However, for me the real content lies in the little clump growing off the bottom of my face. It appears gelled and looks like it probably smells. Notice also the refusal of the hair to grow onto the front of my chin. You would think that baring me being able to understand how disgusting this look was when my facial hair resisted the fashion choice I would've backed down and shaved it. Alas I looked the fool for nearly a year before letting go. Immediately after everyone let me know just how stupid it looked... Besides the odd family member no one really made an effort to let me in on my own mistakes until I rectified them, then they let fly with a stockpile of cashed insults and sardonic remarks.

When I got home today I saw three tails sticking out from under the curtains covering our porch doors. They were all starring at something outside, tracking their heads left and right in unison. Sure enough when I went to check it out it was Yoshi. I honestly thought he would have moved on at this point but apparently in my wife's wide range of talents is the ability to be a squirrel whisperer. This little punk will eat right out of her hands, but will never let me close. Who knows how long he'll be around, but until decides he's had one to many peanuts I think he'll be living on our porch.

On my way home from work today my wife rang me up to ask for Banana Cream pudding. Apparently she tried to acquire some earlier but they only had one kind and it wasn't what she was after. I didn't say which because that is where the disconnect took place. What I heard was that she wanted sugar free, so I responded with "they didn't have sugar free?" She informed me know, so I asked again what kind, and I would swear she said sugar free. This was not the case. When I arrived with a brand new Halloween themed reusable publix bag filled with my dinner and her pudding she excitedly greeted me happy to learn of my pudding procurement. When she removed it from the bag I got a stony glare and a questioning brow. Apparently I had heard wrong, because she already had sugar free and all she had been craving was the the regular. Crap... As most who know me can attest I often hear what I want to so I can not fault her for this. Not wanting to venture out but still wanted to get her the proper custard confection. So I hopped on google and did a little research. We happen to have regular vanilla pudding, so I looked up how many grams of sugar were in the packet, then how many grams were in a teaspoon, and added the proper amounts. I am happy to report it was given the stamp of approval and the icy stare as since be retracted.

Eye catching. That is what I thought when I pulled into a Walmart parking lot on Florida's space coast and saw this gem. The second thought I had was "classy." While this is ridiculous I have to respect someone who is willing to embrace their station in life. Sure it's not something you hope you kid is going to grow up to be but you were pretty insistent on that rule of "if you're going to do something give it %110," so whose really to blame? There is a part of the car missing from this picture that makes me think this showing of literary acumen may have in fact been a creative customer complaint, because the side of car had a pair of magnets. They were those extra large ones you see people who use their personal vehicle for company business slap on for some free advertising. I didn't get a picture because I didn't notice till I was on my way back to my truck and the car was pulling out. The sign reads "THE ELEGANT GENTLEMEN: PARTY AND ESCORT SERVICE."

If you asked me a year ago if I thought you could ever hope to get business for a company that does paternity testing via a billboard I would've told you that you were an idiot. If fact knee jerk reaction to this sign was that whoever paid for it was an idiot, and then I started thinking. I wont lie, I would like to stick with that statement, not budge a bit, but when you take into account their target market, if you could figure out a place that is chalked full of the demo you are trying to reach, and perhaps you put one up across from a bus stop in that part of town. Well then this starts to seem like a very intelligent and pointed marketing technique. I have seen this billboard in two locations, one is in my neighborhood (the ghetto) and the second was on the road outside of Florida's largest trailer park (I know this because it said so I the sign to the park). I am not going to make observations or sweeping statements because if this, but you have already thought them.

This photo is lifted from a file on my computer titled "Stupid ideas I followed through on." As shown in earlier blogs I have a propensity for standing at the very edge of sheer cliff faces. This was another such cliff. Not quite as long of a drop as the Grand Canyon but still plenty to kill you. The reason? It seemed like a good idea at the time, if fact it still seems like a pretty fun time. The more doltish chose of that particular afternoon was to climb a mountain in Colorado alone with headphones on. If you are a frequent hiker you are away of the myriad dangers presented to anyone simply out in the woods. Those can double and triple on a mountain, this is why most urge to hike with a buddy. This seemed annoying so I went alone. To compound the risk of this half baked idea, I have a condition that causes me to pass out when certain amounts of stress to my body is applied. Heat, strain, lack of air, you know all things that manifest when climbing 1500 feet up a mountain. Without the danger what would be the fun? Needless to say I survived the ordeal, got some good video and pictures, and honestly would probably do it again. Those who don't learn from mistakes are doomed to repeat them loses all weight if you thoroughly enjoyed the mistake.

It's been a long time since she's graced the stage with soulful rhythm and penetrating words, but I think it will be a far longer time before anyone forgets Liz: A Blues Legend. There was something in her simple yet powerful observations of the world that let the layman gain insight into the mind of a lyrical genius. It transcended genre and generation The liz collaborating with everyone from Snoop to Elton. All who worked with her coming away powerfully changed. Her style spawned a fashion revolution among tweens, whose after effects we are still seeing in Star Bucks Cafe's and Book Store Coffee shops across the nation. The rumors about binge drinking, drug abuse, and diva like behavior can be put down to little more than the jealous squabbling of her contemporaries. Whether you were her biggest fan, or worst enemy, you can help but respect her. As a popular president may have once said "Regardless of race, political leaning, or financial standing there is one thing everyone in this country can get behind, and that's the Liz."

This is a photo of my niece recently taken by my sister. She posted it to Facebook with the caption "Road Rage." This caption is close to hitting the mark, but I believe further observations can be taken from this captured instant. The first thing that jumps out at me is the business casual pony tail. It's the kind of look that says I'm approachable but here to work. Venturing down we notice the set of mouth and brow a sort of fevered intensity that in combination with her eyes starring intently into the rear view and her right hand positioned to pull hard right, lets us know that there is no way that kid on the big wheel is getting into this lane. However, these are not what truly concerns me. The cell phone on her left is a sign of things to come, studies have shown that when talking on the phone you operate just above the level of drunk, and if we are being honest she will be texting which has proven to actually be worse than being drunk. I see no sign of a safety restraining device or any attempt on her part to wear it, and the wheels appear to be worn smooth. This is obviously not a car fit to be driven, and she needs to learn a bit more respect for the road. However, this is all easily overlooked by most officers given the level of adorable.

In the wilds of central Florida there lived a plump little female squirrel. She was plump due to the 3 little squirrels in her belly. So she set out to make her nest behind some hurricane shutters. This is where I come in. You see a squirrel has a in bread propensity for gnawing. The home owners liked the babies until they shredded the screen. So with the use of two squirrel cages and a trash grabber I was able to remove all the youngins. Now these little squirrels were a bit to small to be released and given my wife's adulation of all things baby animal, she was enamored with the little monsters. From there a Goldy Locks like tale took place. The first was to mean, the second far to skittish, but the third, who is now known as Yoshi, was just right. Yoshi lived in a cat carrier for about a week, subsisting on a steady diet of peanuts and cap fulls of water. However, yesterday I decided he was big enough to let go, much to Kaje's trepidation. So he was released last night. Here is where the story turns. I arrive home step up to my comp and notice a small squirrel standing on its back leg munching peanuts just outside of the back door. Not knowing for sure who it was I stepped outside, he ran, but I still held some hope. So I call her down stairs and she heads out in a pair of my shoes to take a look. Rounding the corner she see's the little bugger sitting on the electrical box. With a peanut in hand she walks right over and he hops into her hand. He is currently sleeping in a small cage on the back porch inside a towel. He is not locked in, he just likes sleeping there. I have rarely seen this level of childlike glee on my wife's face.

This isn't something anyone expects to come home to. It isn't something you can realistically prepare yourself for. Sure we all think about it, but we never really believe it can happen to us. To walk into your bedroom the one you have shared with that person for years and find something like this... It makes you sick. How could they just throw out everything you worked so hard to build? The trust, the respect, and the faith. For what? To find them in wrapped up with someone else. You promised to always be true to them, and yes you can't be there all the time, you can't always provide for every need, but to just take any old thing in place of me. I gave everything to you... I gave you me heart and you stepped all over it, I deserved more Jake.

Ill be back tomorrow

Sorry no time this evening

This picture brings me back to an earlier post concerning a truck with the moniker Captain Dew. The reason this brings me back there is because it is my firm belief that the only people willing to apply this officially licensed lip balm are those woman in pursuit of a man with multiple shot guns, venison in a freezer that is not in the house, and a Dodge Ram with a 36inch lift kit. I am not saying there is anything wrong with racking up more dept on an American classic than most people do on their homes, but I am saying the type of woman who would find it sexy would also wear Dew flavored balm simply because they don't yet make it in Bug Light.

My memory about this night is a bit hazy, the adrenaline fueled evening lead to many a hole in my recollection. So to those of you were also involved I am sorry in advance for the many details you remember correctly and I remember excitedly. It was late in the evening when the door bell rang and Glen Thornsberry was at the door. I answered it and he gave me the bad news. The farm was burning. This is about all I can accurately recall. I believe I shouted back that the farm was burning before rushing out the door without thinking, hoping into the truck with Glen and speeding to the inferno. This was one of many errors in judgment. My attire consisted of gym shorts, a tshirt, and yes flip flops. I won't get into all the details right this second because there are many and I have several photos to go along with them, but within the first 15 of being at the farm I had lost my shoes. Yes the flips flops disappeared in the maelstrom that was the night the farm burned down. Many crazy things happened that night, a oxygen tank blew through a steal door, my father somehow manage to shoulder a 100 gallon propane tank and run with it, bright green flames shot from the roof when one gas or another exploded, and the fire burned hot enough at one point to start spinning. We got on forklifts to pull plastic bins, we moved equipment, we even let 15 fire departments know that just because their tanker truck wasn't their didn't mean they couldn't use one canal and two ponds that were literally right there to get water from. I guess if the fires already burned an hour whats it matter if you wait another 30 or 40 minutes?

I'll be writing more on this later, just to much for one pic to really show.

In Fairfield Ohio there is a magical place. A place where all cultures come together on common ground, a place where a glass bottle of Mexican coke is also in the cooler just waiting for you. What is this place? Jungle Jims International Market of course. A independently owned and operation grocery store with product flown in from all over the world every week. Filled with unique displays, and life size characters. A nearly perfect paradise for all your edible commerce needs. With one very large stain. The nearly spotless store through some error in judgment, perhaps a favor for an old friend, desired to employ the larger than life Campbell's soup can pictured above. Everything seems wholesome at first glance. A rosy cheeked can of condensed goodness sharing a 1 ton swing set with two precocious tots in jungle regalia. I'll even admit I was taken in at a glance, but in the real world its not just the canvas that makes up the picture. The dialogue between him and the children reads like a chat log from a Dateline Special Report. And I quote "Hey kids, why don't you pop my top and taste my steaming insides." I actually ran into another customer. I don't know about the rest of you, but I know one soup can that I'd never leave my kids alone with.

A description of expressions:

1.Katie
a. Katherine's expression is perhaps the easiest of the three to sort through as the emotions she conveys are both strong and straightforward. Simply take in the set of the wolf brow and the way the top lip pulls back it comes clear. Disgust is evident while not quite primary. What is most prevalent is the quickly draining respect for a once revered older brother.
2.Myself
b. Now for myself it is quite easy to relate the emotions and intentions behind the visage gracing this digital facade because I was me and remember. The smile is cautious, wanting to convey a genuine enjoyment of the situation but the over stressing of the lips with the hesitant set of the brow clearly let the viewer know that I am ok with what I am doing but realize most others may not be and I am just looking to be accepted for my similarities as well as my differences.
3.Rick
c. Perhaps the most fascinating of the three Richard is able to convey much is the instant of captured beauty. His wide set stance of both arm and leg, popped collar, icy stair into the camera, and half smirk send a message that is both instant and powerful. He is telling the viewer that "Hey, its cool, this is an action I condone and there's nothing weird here. If you got a problem with it you need to look at yourself or my popped 60/40% woolpolly blended sweater and just chill. He's got this."

A random image search on one of my old hard drives that was litteraly in a shoe box downstairs pulled up this gem. Little known to people outside the direct influence of Beau is that he once had his very own weekly call in show on a college TV network. The show had at least two regular viewers, and you could always count on the occasional freshmen tuning in from week to week. This flier however was not so well received. I took it upon myself to do a little on the street marketing and campus safety took it upon themselves to threaten me with expulsion for doing so. A bit heavy handed I know, but without the student council stamp on every flier there was no way they could be allowed to stand. After only a day up I had to trace my route and pull all 50 down. I them took a picture of a legal flier, photoshoped it onto this one and added my own expiration date. I was never so much as questioned.

Sorry this one is a bit shorter, but I find myself a little more tired than usual. I was also wondering if anyone had some good pics? I have plenty lying around but I thought it could be interesting to use other peoples pics. Please understand that I will undoubtedly mock it without hesitation so please consider this prior to sending me anything.

As I here at my computer watching the slow susurration of the red and blow light bleeding through the blinds from the multiple Sheriff hand cuffing one of my neighbors, I think to myself "this place has gotten to the point where they are no longer trying." Back in the roaring 20's criminals had the class to at least dress up not only their dens of depravity, but themselves as well. People took a little pride in their craft. I drive by this little place frequently and it occurs to me that things have gone so far south that these licentious individuals wont spare more than two words to deceive the current governing body. I don't know if it's a sign of the times are simply Florida, but then seems out and out bizarre. Now it is a well established fact that my neighborhood is caulked full of woman who choose to earn their living in a less than righteous manner. However, even with a severe lack of scruples, when they see a cop they either fade into the surrounding houses. What they don't do is open a "Smoke Shop" on a busy corner in a major city.

On a side note, I listen to a variety of podcasts and radio shows from around the country, and it has come to my attention that by my current count 2/3rds of all stories involving someone dying, getting arrested, or maiming themselves or another come out of Florida. Come on guys, this sucks.

don't actually go to snowmovie.com - i don't own it

I am not doing a picture today because I found a trailer for a new movie coming out that I am so excited about that I figured it would do more to share it with you than the typical blog. The movie is due out spring of next year, right in the heat of the blockbuster battle, so i am expecting big things. I am going to reserve my tickets now because I'm predicting this things gonna be a record breaker.

If you ask her she'll deny it. Whether out of fear or some misguided loyalty I have yet to determine. Either way a disturbing bit of information about my wife's somewhat dark and seedy past came to my attention recently, and as with any major marital development I feel the need to immediately post it online. The woman you see above looks, occasionally acts, and for those none the wiser would appear to be Kaje. This is fact not true. Kaje wasn't not born alone, rather she was yang to this woman's yin. This is her, evil may be too strong, deleterious doppelganger. Born 600 and 66 seconds after Kaje this dark incarnation of her personage roams west Reno pulling the wool over many a mans eyes whilst fleecing them for every dime they have. Never actually committing a crime, but slowly and festively debasing all things sacrosanct. Mind yourself friends and family, she is out there, and she is a far cry from virtuous.

Twas a dark and stormy night in early January, I night that brought with it not inches of snow, but inches of ice. We all huddled together in our respective homes and hovels to wait out the storm over a game of Scrabble or Yahtzee under a bank of 75 watt halogens until.... The temperature remained at that sweet spot of just about freezing for two long, ice kept building, and the grid failed. Power was down through a good chunk of the state, no tv, no radio, and most importantly no heat. The residual would keep us through the night, but who knew how long we'd be without. So the patriarch (Ken) and his minions (myself and a young Katherine), set out to find a generator. We had to search far and wide as many were without power and generators became scarce, with the help of one Mike Buurma we located a warehouse that could supply us with the goods we sought, and with countless "hey Mikes"(hey mikes are for you kat) we secured our bounty and returned to our hearth to provide heat for the family. Luckily the power came back on not to long after and what you see above is the extraordinary effort to remove the vast debris and detritus covering our yard. It nearly destroyed the swing set and took us nearly the entire afternoon to clear the yard, and afternoon we will never get back.....

I know that this image may disturb many of you, but I think it important in order to appropriately convey my message. There is a menace that exists on the edge of society threatening to overtake us. Oft the demon is fictionalized, played up, and played on luring us into a false sense of security. Understand me when I say that it is very real and in a global culture like we enjoy in this modern era it has never been closer to crossing oceans and cultures and destroying the entire world. It is nothing so trivial as swine flu, no mutated super virus, no rebirth of the plague or a super strain of influenza. It is the walking dead, the ghoul, the Zombie. If the word is spread now, if we plan now, if we train now, then there is a chance for our race, but if we sit idle it will be the end for us. The government armies of the world will vainly attempt to cover up what is happening and in doing so leave the world completely unprepared when their lines break and order breaks with it. So I urge you to learn now, train now, and prepare now as I have. If you are so interested in my Zombie plan please inquire to my email, the plain is about 30 pages, though I can condense it to probably 3-5 by using bullet points. Ask now, because when they rise, I wont be able to help then.

What does it take to truly rock? Is it something some of us or born with, or can it be learned? The short answers is born with. I know I am about to shock many of you with this information as it is something that to this point you have remained unaware of. I was born. And when I was born it was with the inherent ability to rock. However, much like Jason Bourne's martial ability shortly after losing his memory it isn't something I can always tap into on command, but it will always be there ready to rock when needed. Such was the case on an Island in Lake Erie years ago. Upon this island events would come to pass that would draw the latent rock from the very depths of me, and I would kick out the Jams, whether I or anyone else wanted it. Many people believe you need a band, amps, and talent to rock. I've put them all to shame with little more than a lack of it on my part and a yellow Mainstays broom (I know it's a Walmart Brand but 5.99 for a broom and dustpan combo just makes fiscal sense). I grabbed the broom, an Ipod set to Wolfmother, and put on a 15minute set that I am confident remains burned into the minds of those lucky enough to witness the madness that is ROCK.

Knock me back about a decade and I can recall hearing a bit of what may be Urban legend, or possibly fact, but I remember hearing a story about how some Native Americans considered having their picture taken to be akin to having at least a portion of the soul taken and lost forever. What I believe is happening in this picture is the harvesting of those portions. Never has a picture casually snapped so creeped me out. So the only and obvious conclusion is that every time I have snapped a quick photo with this phone I have inadvertently sucked a sliver of soul from the person who harmlessly agreed to give me a grin, and my dog is the reaper of the collective hoard of soul fragment I have been storing for nearly two years. This is quite a development.

I went in search of a bus. Why? Because I needed something to throw Emily under. After learning that I was sadly mistaken about the true culprit behind the hanging of my bear I thought in necessary to show everyone the level of attachment I have with this thing. Observe the image above. If the time stamp is to be believe I am not even 2 years of age, and already the bear is in my possession. The bear has been with me from this time and functioned in many capacities since then. At first simply a stuffed toy, the new thing, and if not for a uncanny attachment disregarded with varies other toys from my childhood. However, I quickly developed a strong connection with the bear. He has lost limbs, made many trips through the washing machine, gone to college, lived everywhere from New Hampshire to Florida, and many places in between. I can see Jake right now as a matter of fact, he is sitting on my dresser, eyes chipped, overalls faded, fur a bit ruffled and not quite as white as it once was, but still in tact and with me. Next time I am visiting a certain sister, I think a blankie may find its way to the top of a flag pole at a local municipal court house. This is course just a prediction of sorts, whose to say what will happen tomorrow.

A Obvious Disclaimer:

As Kaje and now Emily have shown, my memory of events from more than about a year ago tends to get a bit shotty. So please forgive my many mistakes, miss-remembrances, and flat out falsehoods. I promise not to do it on purpose, but I can also promise it will constantly happen.